


Left

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [56]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fratt - Freeform, M/M, Red Castle, Smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9439172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: Frank injures his right hand





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amaria_Anna_D](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaria_Anna_D/gifts).



> For my lovely friend Amaria, who managed to get two knife injures in two days. Hope you feel better, lovely!

Frank raised his brows, watching as Red breathed in and out, turned towards the ledge, the night air rushing around them, the absence of the thug he had been roughing up noticeable.

Walking towards him, Frank stole a look at the man he had dropped, mask hiding Red’s face, but the hard expression was there while he breathed, mouth curled to form that angry scowl Frank knew very well.

Looking down at the ground below for a second,  he tucked his gun back in his holster.

“Tell me how that’s not gonna kill him”, he pointed out. “It’s a five story drop.”

Red let out a huff, turning around and walking away towards the other side of the roof.

“He’ll be fine, cops will have found him by the time he wakes up.”

“Yeah, if you say so”, he said, not really worried about the well being of a gangster. They had another lead to follow, anyway.

Right before they reached the door, Red stopped, raising his hand to stop him, too.

“We got company”, he said, turning his head in that way that meant he was listening to something Frank could never possibly hear. “Coming up the stairs. Ten, maybe twelve.”

“Great”, he said, sarcastically, moving to hide behind the stairs, preparing.

They busted through the door and Red took out the first three easily, surprising them. Frank knocked one out and pushed his body against the three more that were coming, slowing them down long enough for him to reach his gun.

“Frank, no!” Murdock roared from behind him, holding one of the gangsters in a choke hold.

“For fuck’s sake”, he breathed out, dropping his shotgun, but it was strapped to him and it swinged on his side, getting in his way. Red kept busy, so did he.

There were only two more coming, nobody else came through the door anymore. He looked at Red for a second, because of the glimmer of a gun, and he knew Red could take care of it, he had dodged Frank’s own guns easily enough, an untrained jackass was nothing.

Still, he looked, because it was a gun, and it was Red. He was going to worry.

When he looked back to deal with his own opponent, though, there was a knife coming right at him. It was stupid and it was reflex, he raised his hand to stop it and there was a sting, his hand was wet, he was bleeding, of course, but he pushed the knife away, curled his left hand in a fist and knocked it once, twice, three times against the fucker’s face and it slowed him down, made him stumble back, and shit, his left was not his dominant hand, that first punch went a little off. Righting his fist properly, he took a step, grabbed italian boy’s shirt with his right one, wincing when pain shot through his hand when he curled his bloody fingers. Nonetheless, he pulled on the shirt and delivered the fourth and last punch, knocking him out.

Red was walking to him when the boy dropped, unconscious, to the ground, over his buddies.

“What happened?” he asked, a hand on his left arm, turning his body to him.

“Knife”, he said, inspecting his hand. Three of his fingers were cut, right along the joints. Damn. “Didn’t see it.”

They stepped away from the unconscious men, turning around a concrete wall the housed the vents of the building.

Without a word, Red took his hand and Frank dropped his head to the wall, screwing his eyes shut at the pain. Not the worst, but it was sharp, it stung, his fingers were throbbing.

“It’s kinda deep”, Red sentenced. “You won’t be able to get stitches, though.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“What are you doing, stopping a knife with your hand, anyway?” Red asked, smirking now, the bastard.

“I didn’t fucking see the knife, did I?” He would have to study that effect some time, to understand why is it that when Red smiles, he smiles too, like it’s automatic. “It was reflex.”

“Reflex”, he echoed, almost mocking, leaning and picking a piece of rag from Frank’s back pocket, cleaning the blood.

“Hey, Red, careful!” he said, trying to pull his hand back at the sting.

“Sorry”, he whispered.

With light, nimble fingers, Red inspected Frank’s injuries.

“We’ll call Claire, she’ll take a look”, he decided and Frank sucked a small breath in when his hand was lifted and Red sucked his middle finger into his mouth, swiping his tongue lightly over the cut. After that quick initial shock, Frank let out a chuckle, moving his hand to grasp at Red’s jaw when he released his finger from inside his mouth, already feeling the effect of that little moe inside his pants.

“The fuck you doing, devil?”

That smirk, that fucking smirk Frank used to hate but learned to love, so cocky and confident, he ought to smack that grin off his face. There it was, open and light, it was as if they weren’t beating up people three minutes ago.

“Trying to stop the bleeding, Punisher.”

It was still stinging, still hurting, the three fingers were still throbbing, he’d like to put them in some ice, now. But Red leaned in again, turning his head and touching his mouth on Frank’s, immediately opening up and swiping their tongues together, slow, deliberate, and Frank tasted the metallic pang of his own blood.

He let himself be kissed until he couldn’t taste the blood anymore. But then his hand started to get somewhat heavier, the throbbing seemed to intensify a bit, yeah, they had to go.

With his left hand - which also hurt from knocking against that fucker’s nose with his fist wrong - he cupped Red’s cheek, tasting his tongue again before pushing him away.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here. I need to put some ice on this.”

He descended the stairs while Red navigated the rooftops towards his apartment. Two hours later, he walked Claire to her cab while Red showered, Frank’s hand immobilized and wrapped in gauze.

“No gun handling, no nose breaking, no curling those fingers”, she said as he opened the cab door for her.

“You got it, ma’am. Thanks.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead and she patted his chest.

“Call me if you need me.”

He walked back into the apartment and dropped on the bed, sighing, closing his eyes. After five minutes or so, he felt the mattress dip beside him, Red’s foot sliding under his ankle and twisting their legs together, his hand picking Frank’s up, placing it on his stomach, caressing his wrist.

“Guess you can’t use this hand for a while, huh?”

Frank turned his head to the right, inspecting as Red moved his own against the pillow, sighing, looking for a comfortable position, his smirk small this time, almost not there at all.

“Why? You had any plans for it?”

“Hmm, no. Not particularly.”

“I still have my left one, you know.”

“Yeah, no”. Red turned on his side, dropped what felt an awful lot like a good night kiss on his mouth, dropping back on his own side of the bad right after. “Left hand hurts a bit. I like the right one better.”

The laughter that escaped Frank was louder than he expected. Supporting his weight on his elbow instead of his hand, he moved to lie on top of his former attorney, using the offended left hand to lower the sweatpants he had on, grasping, squeezing, teasing.

“Guess you’ll have to talk me through it, then.”  

Red jerked up a bit.

“Ow, ow, Frank! Not that tight!”

He smirked on his neck, relaxing his hand a bit. He really was not used to doing this with his left.

“Sorry”. With kisses peppering on his neck, jaw, cheek and lips, nipping, moving his hand slowly, up and down, caressing softly. “Good?”

“Yeah, good.”

After a minute or two, he forgot himself, his excitement building, and he put too much pressure again, settling between Re’s legs, and Red threw his head back, groaning.

“God, Frank, careful!”

With a sigh, he moved to drop back on his side, tugging on Red’s sleeve.

“C’mere, then. I’m the sick one, you should be taking care of me.”

“God”, Red said, with what should have been an impatient sigh, but Frank heard the humor. “It’s just a cut, you brat”.

Still, he got up to kneel between Frank’s legs, sneaking his hand inside his underwear, gripping him, just right, just right, he always did it just right.

“See, this is my left hand”, he said, moving to stand on his knees and a hand by Frank’s head, his mouth over his, slow and sweet and addicting. “See how soft?”

He moaned in response, his eyes closed, enjoying, trying not to flex his right hand.

“See how I don’t press too hard?”

“Yeah, Red, yeah…”

“Is it good?”

He nodded, and Red couldn’t see it, of course, but his mouth was right there on his face, he could feel it, and even if it wasn’t, he always knew, his Red.

“Faster, Red, c’mon” he breathed out, left hand going up to twist on his hair, down his chest, resuming his own ministrations on the devil, he was the fucking devil, he was sure.

“You in a hurry?”

He moaned as Red’s hand sped up, trying to make it good with his own left hand, but it was removed with a chuckle, and he dropped from his knees between Frank’s thighs, twisting his hips in a circle, frictioning it against Frank’s own.

“We’ll work on that left hand later”, Red decided. “For now, you be a nice patient and let me take care of you.”

He was not one to lie there and take it, but, fuck, did it feel nice. All Frank did was lift a leg to allow Red a bit more friction, feeling as he sped up a bit, repeating those nice nothings in his ear, Frank exposed his neck, his chest, everything he had, let Red take care of him.

He had known for a while, now, that he belonged to the devil.


End file.
